


Vacation (Or: The one time Cas got that reference)

by ireallyhatecornnuts (CharleyFoxtrot)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, warning because Jack Harkness exists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 19:07:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/701646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharleyFoxtrot/pseuds/ireallyhatecornnuts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Charlie realizes that neither Winchester knows who Captain Jack Harkness is, and really, that’s just wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vacation (Or: The one time Cas got that reference)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mischievousart](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=mischievousart), [ItIsNeverLupus](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ItIsNeverLupus).



> This story is entirely unbeta'd so feel free to let me know if I screwed up terribly somewhere. 
> 
> There is some really glorious art at the end by the awesome [mischievousart](http://mischievousart.tumblr.com), who is also my beta-reader when I do longer work. He is definitely worth a looksie, so go check him out! (Note: MA also totally wrote what I wound up using as the summary for this fic. He's _awesome_.)
> 
> Gift-fic for tumblr users mischievousart and srhpls.
> 
> As usual, you can find me at my tumblr, disease-danger-darkness-silence.tumblr.com.

It’s almost a year later when Charlie sees them next.

Another day, another dollar, another GIANT FUCKING MONSTER THING RUNNING AMOK AT HER PLACE OF HAPPY FUN TIME. What is her life? That’s what Charlie wants to know.

Anyway, long story short, she finally makes use of the phone number the Winchesters left her with after witnessing one of her fellow LARPers almost get eaten to death by a giant man-bear-thing. 

Dean’s laughter as he slapped Sam on the shoulder didn’t really seem appropriate.

“Wendigos, Sammy. Just like old times.”

Sam didn’t seem to appreciate Dean’s laughter any more than Charlie did. It didn’t make the blood all over her tent go away any faster, but hey, Charlie liked to take the good with the bad. 

The two of them drove her back to her apartment, which was kind of awesome since the person who’d driven her to the event for the weekend? In the hospital with a  _missing leg_. Once again: what was her life?

“It’s like the exact opposite of the Tardis in here,” she said, shifting around uncomfortably on the leather seating. “Smaller on the inside.”

“Hey,” Dean protested. “My car’s not retarded.”

“Oh my  _God_ ,” Sam said, pressing his fingertips to his temple. “It’s a TV show, Dean. From England. Doctor Who?”

“Yeah, nerd it up, Sammy.”

Sam rolled his eyes theatrically. “Yeah.  _I’m_  the nerd.”

“You’ve seriously never seen Doctor Who?” Charlie said, staring at the side of Dean’s face in awe. “That means you’ve never seen  _Torchwood_. Oh my God. _Captain Jack Harkness?_  The only man I’ve ever considered going straight for?” When Charlie received a negative response, she crossed her arms. “This isn’t okay,  _everyone_  needs to see John Barrowman half-naked at least once in their lives.”

“You know, I’m totally okay never seeing that.  _Ever_ ,” Dean replied. Sam started to laugh, but he shut up when Dean slapped him right in his shoulder wound.

“There’s a lot of sex,” Charlie offered helpfully. “Straight, gay, lesbian. I can’t remember if there’s alien sex, but Jack Harkness, so probably?”

“I’m good, really,” Dean said, laughing. 

Charlie’s face took on a determined countenance. “Absolutely not,” she said. A delighted, slightly demented, completely evil look replaced the determination. “Boys, this is how it’s gonna go.”

**\+ + + + +**

There were several steps involved, and about a half-dozen beers apiece, but eventually Charlie convinced her two new best friends to stick around for a few days and indulge in a Torchwood marathon. Charlie can be a lot of things (scared, easily intimidated, weak; snarky, sarcastic, brilliant), but she’s actually rather proud of her skills of persuasion. 

They’ve come in handy at ComiCon a few times. And where you’d least expect it.

That first night she only got them through the first three episodes before all of them passed out on her couch. She woke up stretched across the two brother’s laps, which probably would have been more embarrassing if they hadn’t rescued her from Leviathan, a psychopath with a (supremely hot) fairy on a leash, and now a Wendigo. 

Really, at this point they were beyond trolls in bathrooms as far as forging friendships go.

She stood up and put on coffee, mumbling to herself as she went through her normal morning routine. About halfway through her first cup she noticed that there was blood under her fingernails and made a tiny squeaking noise.

She took a shower. 

By the time she walked out, wearing a trusty pair of yoga pants and a tank top, both of the brothers had woken up and were desperately gulping down her precious coffee. She shot them an evil look before putting another pot on. 

The morning continued in relative silence until Sam finally spoke.

“So, we probably should get going.”

“Oh hell no,” she said, turning toward him. He outmassed her two to one and was at least a head taller than her, but she refused to be intimidated by Sam Winchester. She strode up to him and poked him in the chest. “You promised me a Torchwood marathon and I’m holding you to it.”

“Yeah, Sammy.  _Marathon_ ,” Dean said, winking. 

After some half-hearted protests, Charlie had them ensconced throughout the living room; her and Dean took up opposite sides of the couch while Sam had claimed her armchair to himself. It was huge and for the first time in a while, he actually looked somewhat comfortable with his surroundings.

Each of them had a bowl of cereal and was watching as Ianto tried desperately to save his half-cybernetic girlfriend from a fate worse than death. Occasionally, Charlie snuck a look at either of them; Sam looked like he was re-hashing things in his mind, possibly distracted, but Dean was enthralled. 

They took a small break around lunchtime for sandwiches and dove back in; by the time Charlie figured they needed to order pizza for dinner, they’d managed to get through the thirteen episodes of the first series and were about to start the second series. It was actually really fun; watching TV with Dean was almost like watching an episode of Mystery Science Theater 3K, with added bitchface from Sam (Apparently, it was a long-standing issue between the two of them that Dean talked during TV and movies). 

“Those two are going to make out,” Dean said around a huge mouthful of cheese, pepperoni, and olives.

“They totally are,” Charlie agreed. And lo and behold, Jack Harkness and John Hart did, indeed, make out. And it was good. 

Sam fell asleep in Charlie’s armchair halfway through the second episode of the second series, so Charlie called a halt to the marathon and went to bed. 

The next morning the boys went back to their motel room to shower; they’d cleaned up a bit in her bathroom but Sam had made a comment about Dean’s smell that set the older brother off. Charlie half-thought they wouldn’t come back, but just in case she cleaned up the mess they’d made the day previous. 

They were back far quicker than she’d expected, and it tickled her sense of humor that Dean seemed enthusiastic to get back to watching the show.

“Dean, we really should be looking for a new case,” Sam said, frowning from his spot in the armchair. Charlie was busy bringing her Netflix queue up on the PS3 or she’d have a choice comment to say about his priorities.

“Aw, come on, Sammy, we never get a vacation,” Dean said, sprawling out across his end of the couch. “And most of our friends are  _dead_. How often to we get to just hang out?”

“We see Cas,” Sam offered.

There was an awkward silence, during which Charlie turned to regard Dean. He looked flustered.

“That’s different,” he said, shifting in his seat. “That’s work-related, and Cas can’t die.”

Sam let out a humongous sigh and rolled his eyes, but he settled back in the chair, clearly preparing to dive back into the world of Torchwood Three. 

They got to the end of Series Two with extreme prejudice, back-to-backing episodes like no one’s business. Charlie made a run out for Thai during Something Borrowed, because she’d seen it before and the whole involuntary pregnancy thing really squicked her out hardcore. Judging by the look on Sam’s face when she got back, he hadn’t much liked it either.

By midnight Dean was staring at the TV forlornly. “That’s it?”

She laughed. “Well, there’s the miniseries’ that came afterward; Children of Earth is alright, but Miracle Day was a bigger mistake than letting Gilderoy Lockhart be a teacher.”

Dean looked like he was about to tell her to start up Children of Earth, which Charlie just didn’t have the energy for right now; Ianto’s death always got her right in the feels. They were interrupted by a whooshing sound, and suddenly a man in a tan trenchcoat was standing in her living room.

Charlie screamed.

“Dude, Charlie. Chill, it’s just Cas,” Dean said, standing up. He got all up in the trenchcoat-guy’s personal space. “What’s up, Cas?”

Sam sighed; it was the sigh of a man who had to deal with this  _all the time_. Charlie shot him a quizzical look; Sam rolled his eyes in response.

“I hadn’t heard from you in several days,” Cas said, and holy hell his voice was scratchy and sex on legs. Charlie blinked. “I could sense that you were still alive but I figured I’d come make sure everything was okay.”

“Okay, okay, why is there a  _magical teleporting man_  in my living room?” Charlie asked, slightly hysterical. 

Dean grinned and clapped the other man on the arm and glanced at Charlie, conspiratorially. “Charlie, this is Castiel, angel of the lord. He’s our Ianto,” he said, smirking.

Angel of the lord? Charlie was about to ask if that was an innuendo for something obscene, but Castiel interrupted her.

“I understood that reference,” Cas said, his face brightening and a small smile alighting his lips. “Torchwood, right?”

Charlie switched gears mid-thought. “You like Torchwood?” she asked, delighted. “Have you ever seen Doctor Who?”

Castiel nodded, otherwise preternaturally still in the center of her living room. “Yes. My…Uh, Daphne was a fan. We had the reboot and Torchwood on Blu-Ray.”

Dean frowned slightly at the reference to Daphne, a small gesture that Charlie filed away for later. Sam rolled his eyes again.

Castiel squinted then, staring off into the distance and then turning back to regard Dean. “Are you implying that you’re Captain Harkness?”

Sam, who had been halfway through sipping a beer, spluttered, sending a spray of foamy booze across her living room. “ _What_ ,” he said, inhaling gulps of air desperately. 

Dean flushed red. “What?” he squeaked. 

“Your friend Charlie,” and Cas nodded at her. “You’ve mentioned that she’s quite good with computers, so obviously she is Toshiko. Sam is probably more like Gwen, and I highly doubt you would like being compared to Owen, so I assume that you wanted Captain Harkness’ role.”

“Oh my  _God_ ,” Sam said.

“I’m sorry, did you just imply that you’re boinking Dean?” Charlie asked, grinning. It was like  _Christmas_.

Castiel’s eyes widened. “Oh,” he said, like he’d just remembered that little bit. 

Sam was laughing hysterically. “Oh my god,  _why aren’t we taping this_ ,” he managed.

“Anyway, you’re wrong,” Charlie said. “My milkshake brings all the gals to the yard, so clearly  _I’m_  Jack Harkness.”

“No way, I’m  _totally_  Jack,” Dean said, hand cutting through the air.

“Oh, so you  _are_  boinking Cas?” Charlie asked, innocently. Dean flushed even redder.

“If I ever give you a hard time about marathonning a show again,” Sam said, hunched in on himself. “Just remind me of this moment. Please. I’ll owe you one  _forever_.”

“That’s…not what I meant,” Dean finished, lamely. He shifted his gaze around the room, eyes darting from object to object before he settled on a blank piece of her wall.

“Oh. My.  _God_ ,” Charlie said, sitting upright in her seat. Castiel looked flustered, which in Charlie’s experience (all five minutes of it) wasn’t a common look on him.

There was an awkward silence lasting several moments before Sam spoke, loudly and deliberately.

“Charlie,” he said, eyes on Dean and Castiel. “I think we should make a beer run. Let’s make a beer run.”

“Beer run,” Charlie said, nodding and standing. “Right.”

It was with due haste that the two of them exited her own apartment; at the last second Charlie looked back over her shoulder and caught sight of Dean and Castiel, staring at each other. 

“What was  _that_  all about?” Charlie asked, once the door was safely closed behind her.

Sam sighed and, instead of answering her question, drew her under his arm and began walking her down the hallway. “Lemme tell you about angels,” he said. 

**Author's Note:**

>   
> 
> 
>  
> 
> Art by [mischievousart](http://mischievousart.tumblr.com). Who is awesome. _Thank you_.


End file.
